


c'mon, don't look so (mad)

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eventual Fluff, First Kiss, Fuckboy!Tyler, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, aka my cause of death lmao, nerd!josh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7809232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was in Josh's nature to be curious about everything, but this was way beyond curiosity. He was on the verge of launching a full-on  investigation titled "Why Does Tyler Joseph Hate My Guts?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	c'mon, don't look so (mad)

**Author's Note:**

> lmao why do i write so many of these i'm screaming on the inside?¿

Josh wasn't going to lie and say he was the most athletic kid in the world. Because he wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Some people just prefer books to basketball and Star Trek to sit-ups. And Josh Dun happened to be one of those people. Which is no big deal, really. Who is he hurting by having braces and liking computers and getting good grades?

No one. He's hurting _no one_.

But no, that can't be right, because why else would Tyler Joseph go out of his way to make Josh's life a living hell? Just for kicks? To prove what everyone already knew- he's _better?_ Faster, stronger, prettier?

What kind of point was he so desperate to make that he would step on Josh's shoelaces every single time he saw they were untied and make him trip in the middle of the hallway? And then proceed to watch as Dun scrambled to pick up his books with a pink face while everyone else laughed?

Josh was tired of trying to understand him or his motives. Just because Tyler Joseph wasted his time with Josh Dun didn't mean Josh Dun had to waste his time with Tyler Joseph.

At least, that's what he liked to tell himself.

Over. And over. And over. And over again.

Because Josh would never, in a million fucking years, openly admit that he actually wanted to know. Know what he had done wrong, know how he could fix it, know if Tyler was being an asshole just because he, as a worshipped figure, had the right to.

It was in Josh's nature to be curious about everything, but this was way beyond curiosity. He was on the verge of launching a full-on  investigation titled _Why Does Tyler Joseph Hate My Guts?_

Something told him that the answer to that particular question wouldn't be nearly as easy to find as every single one in math. Which Josh had an A in, by the way. 

Tyler Joseph may be confusing, but trigonometry is not. And neither is English or biology or economics. That was the thing: Josh could ace all his classes and not miss a single assignment, but he couldn't get inside Tyler's brain and pick it apart so he could finally, _finally_ get some answers.

Tragic, really.

Something else tragic is the fact that while Josh was standing off to the side, thinking about all this, he got hit in the face with a basketball.

"Think fast, Dun!"

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Or something like that.

The impact sent Josh staggering back with a strangled yelp, clutching at his face as the ball bounced away. He had to check twice to make sure his nose wasn't bleeding before dropping his hands to drill the snickering Tyler with the most intimidating look he could muster.

(It wasn't very intimidating.)

"C'mon, Joshie boy, don't look so mad," Tyler cooed; his asshole friends cackled in unison like a pack of hyenas as Josh's glare turned to a pink-faced scowl. "This is gym class, the last time I checked, not Stand Around and Do Nothing class."

The typical chorus of mockery in the form of laughter followed immediately after that last syllable; as Tyler smirked at him, Josh simply stared at his feet in a silent sign of defeat.

"C'mon, Ty, he can't really help it," another added in an ugly sneer. "Look at him. He's not really made for physical activity. Just video games and sitting alone at lunch."

As he continued to study his ratty old sneakers - which just looked sad compared to the spotless pairs of Nike's on the other boys' feet - for fear of looking up and letting them see his red face, Tyler was quick to agree: "Can't argue with you there. And he wonders why he always gets picked last for everything."

Josh didn't wonder. He _knew_. He knew that if Tyler Joseph hated him, that meant everyone else would follow his lead. And therefore not bother picking him for basketball or volleyball or baseball or holding a decent conversation or not making him feel like shit.

In fact, when he really thought about it (and he thought about it a _lot_ ), it was Joseph's fault that ever since middle school, he hadn't had one good friend- or even one bad friend. He had no companionship, is the bottom line.

(I think it's fair to add that their problems started in the seventh grade when Tyler accidentally bumped into Josh and made him drop all his stuff; everyone laughed, of course, and he was ultimately inspired by that positive reaction- so much so, apparently, that he continued to do the same thing five years later, and still got the same results: he was satisfied, the others were satisfied... in fact, the only one who _wasn't_ satisfied was Josh. Go figure.)

Never had he looked more dissatisfied than when Tyler smiled at him one last time before turning away and back to his smirking goons.

Oh, he hated gym class, but he hated Tyler Joseph even more.

 

Tyler wasn't stupid.

He knew he came off as the dumb, shit-talking fuckboy type - you know, nice shoes and hair and place on the food chain - but he _wasn't_ stupid. I mean, yeah, he was failing biology (which happened to be the class he shared with Josh Dun) but my point is this:

he had definitely noticed that he wasn't exactly as straight as an arrow. Do you follow?

Really, this feeling of "hey, I might like dudes" had been nipping at his heels since the seventh grade. Which is, coincidentally, the year he first (and accidentally) made a fool of Josh. 

He had helped him up that time, mumbling out apologies left and right; it was then that he found himself noticing how soft and warm the other boy's hand was- which was odd. Because wasn't he only supposed to notice that sort of stuff with girls?

And then Josh, pink-faced, had the audacity to smile at him and say, "it's okay. 'm a little clumsy myself."

And Tyler thought, _oh, shit._

Which were pretty heavy words for a thirteen-year-old.

But he found them fitting at the time. Because no. He liked girls. Females. The opposite gender. He always had, and he always would.

So fuck Josh Dun if he thought he could get in Tyler's way, confuse him. Fuck him and his warm, gentle hands and soft, messy hair and shiny braces and cute laugh. Who needed him, anyway?

Certainly not Tyler. Because from then on, whenever Josh fell down, it wouldn't be an accident. And Tyler _definitely_ wouldn't help him back to his feet.

Even if he wanted to. Even if, despite the way everyone snickered in approval at each stumble and whimper and pleading, round-eyed stare, he felt like the shittiest person alive. And he wasn't even the one getting pummeled with pointless hatred on a daily basis.

Remember how I said he was failing biology? That's because he spent a majority of the class period stealing desperate, starry-eyed glances at Josh from across the room, thinking about how stupid he really was. How _all of this_ really was.

Of course, the teacher would often notice that he couldn't give less of a fuck about what she was saying, and proceed to call on him out of nowhere.

His mind would go blank. He'd open his mouth helplessly only to let out a weak "um." Everyone would twist in their seats to stare at him, waiting. Ready to see how dumb he really was.

That's when Josh would swoop in and blurt out the answer for him.

He nearly sighed out loud in relief, sinking back in his chair; the teacher just glared and gritted out, "Thank you, Joshua, but next time let Tyler answer for himself."

And Josh nodded, face flushed, even though he probably wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

When the teacher turned around again, they made eye contact from across the room. Josh smiled shyly. Tyler just mouthed "why?"

A small shrug that left him more puzzled than ever.

Which is why, as soon as class ended and everyone filtered into the hallway, he slowed down so Josh could match his stride and murmured, "So, you kinda saved my ass back there."

"I guess I did, yeah." Josh wasn't looking at him, as usual, but this time it seemed to be out of shyness rather than humiliation.

"Why?"

He stopped then, books clutched to his chest and lips parted ever-so-slightly. Helplessly. Like he just couldn't find a decent explanation to that one syllable.

A few seconds later Tyler stopped too, stealing an inquiring glance over one shoulder before Josh announced, "I gotta get to math."

And he was gone, slipping away into the sea of people and increasing Tyler's confusion tenfold.

 

Tyler didn't know what was wrong with him. All he knew was that he didn't hate Josh Dun quite as much as he used to.

Because people you hate shouldn't be the reason you're laying wide awake at two a.m., despite the fact that you've got school in five hours. And even when you do finally nod off, it's still ~~their~~ his face imprinted on the backs of your eyelids. 

(Apparently, you're not supposed to touch yourself while thinking about someone you hate, either.)

Or have _dreams_ about them, for god's sake. Dreams about being back in the seventh grade and bumping into a soft boy in the hallway. Dreams about helping up said boy and enjoying the way fingers intertwined a little too much. Dreams about refusing to do the same thing five years later.

Nightmares. Nightmares about round, dark eyes looking up at him from the floor like he had just made every flower on Earth wither into dust. So different from the way a fellow thirteen-year-old boy with braces and messy hair (both of which still apply) had blinked up at him shyly before Tyler offered a hand- along with bountiful apologies.

Josh didn't fair much better: his brain (which was usually 90% schoolwork and 10% Star Trek) was now 105% Tyler Robert Joseph. And he still wasn't sure if that was a good thing. But whether it was good or bad didn't really matter in the end, because he too would be staring up at his dark ceiling at two in the morning, despite having two tests the next day that he needed to rest up for, _despite_  having promised himself that he would never give a fuck about Tyler Joseph. Of _all_ people.

Clearly, he gave more fucks than he would ever admit, because a few days later he found himself doing the impossible.

On more than a few occasions, Josh would find himself seeking shelter from Tyler's asshole buddies; it was usually on the days when they went rogue and had no problem chasing him down the hallway. Which typically ended badly for him, because as I said earlier, he wasn't the most athletic guy on the block.

This was one of the times he got lucky, however: he ducked into the boy's bathroom in the nick of time, and they had been too tangled up in the sea of people clogging the hallway to see where he had gone.

He stayed there for a good five minutes, just to be safe- and to catch his breath. Bracing himself against one of the sinks, he breathed in and out shakily until he wasn't wheezing quite as much.

Once he had gotten his heartbeat back to a normal pace, he pried his sweaty hands off of the sink and turned to leave.

_That_ was when he heard the mess of hiccuping and sniffling coming from one of the stalls. He froze, because it's not every day that you find someone having an emotional breakdown in the boy's bathroom.

Especially not Tyler Joseph. (He could tell by the shoes.)

Okay. So, he had two options here, neither of which really appealed to him in the end:

1\. Walk away like he hadn't heard anything. Because, hey, it wasn't his problem anyway. It was a complete asshole's.

2\. Knock on the door and go from there. (And hope he didn't get his head ripped off.)

After a good thirty seconds of "holy shit what the fuck do I do?" he said _fuck it_ and settled on option two.

Approaching the stall door on shaky legs, he knocked on it tentatively, swallowing back the sick feeling coming up his throat so he could mumble, "Tyler? That you?"

There was another bout of choked hiccups mixed with soft, watery sobs before someone who was unmistakably Tyler rasped, "Go away, Dun."

_No thanks_. "What's wrong? Girlfriend break up with you or something?"

A laugh without an ounce of humor immediately sounded from behind the door. "I haven't had a girlfriend since freshman year, Josh. Nice try, though."

_Josh_.

"Okay," Josh said slowly, trying to ignore the way his skin was pricking in anticipation of _something_. Whatever this something was. "Why _are_ you crying, then? Lose a basketball game? Get a pair of Nike's dirty?"

There was a long pause from the other side of the door that made his stomach flip over on itself. And then there was the soft _click_ of it being unlocked, and an even softer "come in, then."

Oh.

After a moment of hesitation, Josh did just that, pushing past the door and into the stall so he could come face-to-face with the red-eyed, sniffling mess that was Tyler Joseph.

He felt pity flicker in his chest and ultimately failed to smother it.

They stared at each other for a long while, practically pressed together within those four shitty walls. It was quiet save for Tyler's choked breathing, throat sore from all the tears, but he found that it soon mirrored the gentle rise-and-fall of Josh's chest.

In fact, it was probably Josh that made him relax enough to whisper, "I don't know what I'm doing."

_Yeah? That makes two of us,_ the other boy thought with a wispy sigh. "What do you mean?"

"Everything... Everything is confusing. I- I don't know what to _do_ ," Tyler admitted, each word strangled, desperate.

Everything he said echoed Josh's thoughts from the past few days. So he replied with what he had been telling himself every night at two a.m. when he couldn't fall asleep: "I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough. The universe doesn't like loose ends."

Dark eyes blinked at him. "You think so?"

"Yeah." He smiled a small, soft smile. "I really do."

Tyler smiled back.

Two boys, wedged in a bathroom stall, smiling at each other like idiots. Marvelous.

A few moments later Josh looked away shyly, face flushed the best shade of pink, and murmured, "I gotta get to biology."

"So do I."

And they _might've_ walked to class together. But you didn't hear it from me.

 

Josh had never gotten detention before in his life. So he knew he was bound to get it sometime or another.

But he had always thought it would be for tardies or something,  not telling off his biology teacher when she called Tyler a dumbass because she randomly called on him (yet again) and he couldn't answer quick enough.

Unfortunately for her, Josh's vocabulary went way beyond "dumbass," and everyone watched in awe as he verbally ripped her to shreds.

Who knew the quiet kid with braces could practically bring a middle-aged woman to tears?

It was pretty obvious that detention was in his future, yet he still felt his heart drop when he heard the words. That being said, he didn't regret it.

And that's how he wound up sitting at a desk while everyone else got to go home, bored out of his mind. Apart from some other guy that had fallen asleep in the corner, he was the only one there; there was the detention teacher, of course, who was the first to look up when someone else slunk into the room and say, "Glad you could join us, Mr. Joseph."

All of a sudden, Josh wasn't bored anymore.

Tyler was quick to plop down in the seat beside the messy-haired boy, who was staring at him like he had just stepped off of Mars. 

Did Tyler usually get detention? He really didn't seem like that type of guy. I mean, yeah, he could be an asshole, but not to teachers or staff.

"Why are you here?" Josh leaned over and whispered to him, stealing a wary glance at Mr. Smith. He didn't look up from the murder mystery he was reading.

After a moment Tyler murmured lowly in reply, "I might've punched someone."

Oh.

Josh blinked at him slowly, brows furrowed, before hissing softly, "Why would you do that? Was it self defense or what?"

Before he could reply the detention teacher glared at them from over his book, and they both went silent at once. Grunting his approval, he continued to read; the conversation picked back up again.

"It was complicated, okay? All you need to know is that he deserved it," Tyler growled as quietly as he could manage for someone so bitter. "Now that I think about it, I wish I could've gotten a few more good hits in."

Unsure how to feel about all of this, Josh just sat back in his chair, fingers fiddling restlessly with the hem of his NASA t-shirt.

They didn't talk for a long while, Tyler staring angrily into space and Josh, now picking at his nails, lost in confused thought. The guy in the corner stirred awake only to ask how much longer they had.

Twenty minutes, apparently.

Eventually Tyler tapped on Josh's shoulder again, eyes much softer when he murmured, "You didn't have to do that for me in biology class, you know."

"Of course I did," Josh huffed quietly with a shake of his head, dark curls bouncing around his forehead. "What kind of teacher calls one of their students a dumbass?"

"Well, she wasn't wrong. I _am_ failing that class."

"Then she should be encouraging you, not degrading you," Josh pointed out gently, adding a moment later, "You could always study with me, if you want."

Tyler blinked at him. Smiled, soft and sweet. "I'd like that."

(He had an A in that class by the end of the semester.)

 

Mrs. Dun was more than a little surprised when her son didn't come home alone on Friday. In fact, when he walked in the door with a cute boy at his heels, she was certain hell was freezing over.

"Who's this?" she had asked lightly after making sure she wasn't dreaming and this was actually reality. Because, to her knowledge, her son didn't really have any friends. Which is why he never brought any home. _Ever_.

"Oh." Josh stopped to nod shyly at his companion and announce, "This is Tyler, Mom. Tyler Joseph."

"The one you always talk about?" 

When Tyler glanced at him slyly with a pleased grin, he cleared his throat and spluttered, "Didn't I, um, tell you he was coming over yesterday? At dinner?"

(She didn't have the heart to tell him she had thought he was joking or something. In that moment, she was just too thrilled.)

"You're right, you're right." Waving a hand, she prompted with a smile, "Run along, then. And if you need anything, Tyler, just ask. Okay?"

"I will, thank you," he assured her politely before scurrying upstairs at her son's heels.

The first thing Tyler did when the door clicked shut behind them was gaze around in awe. "Dude, it looks like Gene Roddenberry threw up in here or something."

"I'm surprised you even know who that _is_ ," Josh snorted playfully, immediately flopping down atop his bed and patting the space next to him; Tyler wasted no time settling down beside him, sprawled out on his side so he could grin at Josh as he replied, "Well, you talk about Star Trek so much, I figured I might as well do some research on it."

"You actually researched Star Trek just because I talk about it all the time?"

"I mean, yeah. I think I might know more about it than you now," he teased gently, to which Josh just laughed a sweet laugh.

"I seriously doubt that."

"Sounds like a challenge to me," Tyler growled quietly through a smile before reaching out to tickle his soft stomach. Josh yelped in surprise, wriggling frantically away from him; choking on a laugh and leaving his gasped "don't you _dare-_ " unfinished.

But the tickling continued, this time _under_ his shirt, and Tyler watched with a mischievous grin as Josh laughed and swatted gently at him until he was a wheezing mess of defeat.

"Okay, okay, you win," he insisted breathlessly, dark hair messier than ever and smile enunciated by the gleam of his braces. "Happy now?"

"Very," Tyler purred, flopping down on his back so they were laying side-by-side, gazing up at the ceiling. There was a moment of silence before he stole a nervous glance at the soft-edged boy and murmured quietly, "Josh?"

"Mhm?"

And then Tyler was sitting up, which caused Josh to sit up, too, blinking at him worriedly; noting the change in atmosphere.

"Remember how I said I got detention for punching someone?" A small nod. "I mean, that was true- what I said about him deserving it was also true."

Josh just looked at him gently, silently prompting him to go on. So he did.

"I, um- I heard him say some things. Things about... About you. And they weren't- they weren't _true_ things, they weren't kind things, and I got really pissed off, I guess. Not just at this asshole, but at myself. Because _I_ used to say those things." He breathed in sharply, eyes falling shut. "So I punched him. I was angry at him and at myself and I punched him in the face. And I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. I'm so, _so_ sorry Josh. For _everything_. I fucked up."

He opened his eyes again and waited for anger or bitterness or something other than the gentle smile he loved so much.

But the smile was there, in all its gentleness, and Josh webbed their fingers together.

They were just as soft as they had been back in the seventh grade.

"Apology accepted."

Josh's lips were soft too, he found ten seconds later. Soft against his own, soft kissing a sweet trail up his neck, soft pressed against the very base of his throat, caressing where his pulse lived. Everything was soft and sweet and slow: Tyler's fingers running through dark, messy hair as he whined gently into Josh's mouth. A mouth that worshipped every inch of skin it could reach, breathing warm, honeyed air against his neck.

And afterwards, when Tyler was curled light and calm in Josh's lap with a warm cheek nestled again his chest, he laughed, "You were right. The universe really does tie up loose ends."

Josh just buried his face blissfully in his short hair and mumbled, "Told you so."

**Author's Note:**

> if you listen very closely,, you can hear me screaming in the distance :))) kick me in the face


End file.
